


The Impossible Conclusion (That I Have Known You Before)

by twahtohnedskee



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: M/M, Reincarnation, did someone say SOULMATES, the wowkwan reincarnation AU that nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 10:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20152459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twahtohnedskee/pseuds/twahtohnedskee
Summary: There were moments with Sehyoon that couldn’t be explained. Like the time Byeongkwan picked the peppers off of Sehyoon’s pizza without the latter ever telling him of his aversion. Or the time the five of them had watched a scary movie and Sehyoon had crawled into his bed afterwards, claiming to be too scared to sleep alone, when in fact it was Byeongkwan who had been shaking. These were small things that built up into a friendship but seemed to speak of something more, something bigger.And then there were the dreams.





	The Impossible Conclusion (That I Have Known You Before)

_I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…  
In life after life, in age after age, forever._

Byeongkwan meets Sehyoon in Beat Interactive and it feels like something inside him shifts. It doesn’t quite make sense. By all intents and purposes he should be closer to Yuchan. They’ve been through a lot together. They’re closer in age and temperament. They are young and boisterous and loud, the way maknaes are supposed to be.

Sehyoon is older. He is generous with his smiles and eccentric in his tastes. He is quiet. Byeongkwan has never been drawn to quiet before but he can’t seem to help himself. They fall into step with each other immediately, forming weird inside jokes and connecting on a wavelength almost entirely their own. Sehyoon is quiet, yes, but he is also playful, artistic, caring. He’s the brightest person in Byeongkwan’s life and the light he shines with is warm like summer sun. It is also familiar. Achingly familiar.

There were moments with Sehyoon that couldn’t be explained. Like the time Byeongkwan picked the peppers off of Sehyoon’s pizza without the latter ever telling him of his aversion. Or the time the five of them had watched a scary movie and Sehyoon had crawled into his bed afterwards, claiming to be too scared to sleep alone, when in fact it was Byeongkwan who had been shaking. Byeongkwan always knew exactly when Sehyoon needed to be alone and Sehyoon knew just how to pull Byeongkwan out of his own head. These were small things that built up into a friendship but seemed to speak of something more, something bigger.

And then there were the dreams.

_My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,_  
_ That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,_  


There is fanfare when the prince arrives. Byeongkwan tries to sneak a glance at him but they aren’t allowed to break formation. When the prince finally stops before him, Byeongkwan hates the way his gaze drops instinctively. The sight of the prince’s boots, pristine and newly shined, lights a fire of defiance inside his belly. He supposes he has the right to hate the prince a little, for his blessed life, for his power. For the fact that he never did anything to earn it except be born to the right family. 

It is ill-mannered to look royalty in the eye but Byeongkwan does it anyway. He is not ready for the shock of feeling that comes when their eyes meet. He watches confusion flit across the prince’s face and then a spark of something else, something almost like recognition. Whatever that strange emotion is, Byeongkwan is struck with it as well.

“What is your name?” The prince asks. His voice is softer than Byeongkwan expected. There is wonder in his tone and an unprecedented amount of gentleness. Byeongkwan is so surprised that he almost forgets to answer.

“Kim Byeongkwan, your highness.” 

The prince has yet to break eye contact and Byeongkwan finds he isn’t strong enough to look away. It’s as if they are the only ones in the room

  
“And will you fight for me, Kim Byeongkwan?” the prince asks. His voice pitched lower this time, making everything too personal, too intimate.

The question is mere ceremony—a signal that he has chosen Byeongkwan to be trained as part of his guard. It is what Byeongkwan and his family had hoped for when they sent him to the palace. There is a standard reply. A “yes, your highness” and a bow. Instead, Byeongkwan finds himself dropping down to one knee.

“With all my heart,” he says, more fiercely than is warranted by the circumstances.

The rest of the room freezes in the face of this brazen display but Byeongkwan isn’t paying attention. All he sees is the way the prince’s shocked face breaks into a smile and the sight of it is so beautiful Byeongkwan feels something in him bloom at having caused it. Instantly this becomes one of his greatest achievements. (Another, later on, would be standing behind Sehyoon as he is crowned king). In that moment, Byeongkwan thought nothing of the people or the kingdom. The only thing he wanted to protect was this prince who spoke like a spring breeze and smiled like the dawn.

_In life after life, in age after age, forever._

It is Sehyoon’s birthday and the members have bought him a cake. They commemorate the occasion with a live for the fans from the back of their van. It’s a good moment. Sehyoon looks a bit overwhelmed but happy, and that’s what matters.

Donghun pulls out the cheap plastic crown they bought for him and there is a chorus of cheers. Yuchan starts chanting “King Wow! King Wow!” and the rest of the members join in. Byeongkwan is chanting along with the others but his voice catches in his throat mid-cheer.

He watches Donghun place the crown on Sehyoon’s head like it’s happening before him in slow motion. Sehyoon ducks down and laughs. It’s such a small thing. The rush of protectiveness Byeongkwan feels in the wake of it is so intense it nearly bowls him over. He realizes he wants to keep Sehyoon like this forever—bubbly and carefree and surrounded by people who love him. He gives in to the urge to reach for Sehyoon’s hand where the camera can’t see. Sehyoon isn’t even looking when he laces their fingers together but he grips Byeongkwan’s hand like an answer. Or a promise.

They start singing happy birthday.

_Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain,_  
_ Its ancient tale of being apart or together._  


In the stories they tell afterwards, they paint Sehyoon as evil. They paint his fall as a punishment well deserved for his hubris and ambition. But Byeongkwan knows the truth. Will always know the truth. All Sehyoon ever did was ask questions that nobody else dared to. 

Byeongkwan runs his fingers through Sehyoon’s hair. The latter is sleeping with his head in Byeongkwan’s lap. They had been walking for days when it started raining. It never rained in the garden. They were never hungry there either, or cold. Now, they were forced to take shelter from those things under a large tree. Byeongkwan stares up into the canopy of leaves and wonders if this is someone’s twisted form of humour. 

He lets his fingers brush against Sehyoon’s neck, then down his shoulders. He takes a single, golden feather between his thumb and forefinger. Its color isn’t dulled and it shines even in the gloom around them. Byeongkwan allows himself a smile but it is a sharp and bitter thing. Even when they stripped him of everything, cast him out, and turned the world against him they couldn’t completely erase who Sehyoon really was.

_Morning Star. Light bringer._

Byeongkwan would have followed him anywhere. And he did.

_As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,_  
_ Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:_  
_ You become an image of what is remembered forever._

Byeongkwan wakes slowly, like an errant feather swaying to the ground. That morning, he catches Sehyoon in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal before he leaves for university. He is leaning against the counter with his back to the lone window in the room. Sunlight streams in gently, blurring the edges of his silhouette and turning his light hair incandescent. When he sees Byeongkwan, he greets him softly.

Sehyoon huffs a laugh when Byeongkwan forces him into some morning snuggles. He places his bowl on the counter and Byeongkwan takes this as an invitation to get as close as he wants. He reaches his arms up and around, palms splaying across Sehyoons shoulders, head buried in his neck. Sehyoon’s hands land warm on Byeongkwan’s waist. Not quite holding, just present.

Something about the early morning quiet makes the moment feel delicate. Byeongkwan holds it in his heart as carefully as he can, for fear that it would shatter at any second. He glances up at Sehyoon, still bathed in light, and thinks, not for the first time, how easy it is to imagine him with wings. 

Of course, not a second later, Sehyoon’s fingers dig into his sides in what must be one of the world’s greatest betrayals. Byeongkwan yelps and shoves him back against the counter. Sehyoon’s answering grin is mischievous and smug. Horns, Byeongkwan thinks glaring at the older boy. He can also imagine Sehyoon with horns.

  
_You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount._  
_ At the heart of time, love of one for another._

Sehyoon is driving like a madman. The cityscape whips past them in a blur. They’ve just dropped off the last of the smuggled whiskey for tonight’s run and they don’t need to report to the boss until sunrise. No one is on the streets at this hour, not even the coppers. Byeongkwan feels like he could swallow the world whole.

Sehyoon makes a sharp turn that sends the tires of their fixed up Buick squealing. Byeongkwan places a hand on the roof and hangs on for dear life. A laugh bubbles up inside him. The speed doesn’t scare him. It never has. With Sehyoon at the wheel, he’s not afraid of anything.

Byeongkwan turns his head and watches the play of moonlight across Sehyoon’s features. Something tightens in his chest. God, he loves him. He loves him so much he wants to scream it out into the streets. Sehyoon glances at him, his expression playful and reckless.

“You keep looking at me like that, sugar, and I may have to commit one more crime tonight.”

“And what’s that?” Byeongkwan asks, always ready to play along with Sehyoon’s games.

“Steal your heart.” He answers, shameless. Byeongkwan scoffs. If his cheeks are tinged pink it must be because of the sharp wind.

“That wouldn’t be stealing, you dumb sap,” he says. “I gave that to you a long time ago.” 

  
_We have played along side millions of lovers, shared in the same_  
_ Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell-_  
_ Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever._  


Junhee calls for a fifteen minute break a few hours into their late night practice session. Comeback is just around the corner and they’ve been keeping ridiculous hours for days now. Everyone has collapsed onto the floor in exhaustion. Byeongkwan leans against the mirror of the practice room, breathing hard. He closes his eyes, only for a second.

He doesn’t realize that he’s dozed off until he startles awake at the feel of something cold against his temple. Sehyoon is standing above him with the water bottle he’d nudged against Byeongkwan’s head. Byeongkwan takes it gratefully and gulps it down.

“Chan and I are gonna freestyle for a bit, are you up for it?” Sehyoon asks.

Byeongkwan shakes his head. His limbs feel like jelly and he’s going to need all the downtime Junhee is willing to give him to recover for the next round of choreography. “I’ll just watch.”

Sehyoon nods and goes to stand a few feet from the mirror. A song with thumping beats comes on and Byeongkwan watches Sehyoon slowly settle into the flow of it. He’s always loved the way Sehyoon dances. It’s a passion they have in common but there is something about the power and charisma of Sehyoon’s dancing that leaves Byeongkwan speechless every time.

Byeongkwan thinks back to the days when glances at Sehyoon had to be stolen. Back when he was still navigating through the stormy waters of realizing he was in love with his best friend. His urge to stare at Sehyoon used to be accompanied by guilt and confusion. Now, he gets to watch him openly, appreciate the strong lines of his body as he moves and the way his clothes pull taut over toned muscles. Sehyoon meets his eyes through the mirror and raises an eyebrow. Byeongkwan blows him a kiss just to see the way his nose scrunches up.

The music stops and Junhee claps his hands to get everyone back into formation. In the first run through of the new song, Byeongkwan indulges himself. He leans forward more than the choreography calls for and steals himself a kiss from the most beautiful boy in the world.

  
_ Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you_  
_ The love of all man’s days both past and forever:_  
_ Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life._  


He always remembers just when it’s too late. They knew the risks when they took on this assignment. The fact that they lasted this long in enemy territory is a miracle in and of itself. It was Byeongkwan’s fault in the end, too trusting even in war, even as a spy. At least they had done some good, gotten some information over to the right people—coordinates, coded messages. They say victory is only months away. That’s a shame, Byeongkwan thinks. They almost survived. Sehyoon is holding him close, trying his best to staunch the blood flowing from Byeongkwan’s midsection.

Between the flashes of pain come the memories. 

It’s the bad ones first. He’s died like this before, in Sehyoon’s arms. It seems they’ve fought their fair share of wars side by side. Selfishly, he prefers this outcome over the alternative where it is Sehyoon bleeding out in his arms. There are memories of that too.

The good ones flood in more slowly, all honey-sweet and golden. Images of the two of them resting in a garden shaded by an apple tree, dancing in an empty palace ballroom by moonlight, jumping into a lake as children hand in hand, the smell of spring heady and nostalgic. Memories of them alive and in love in this life and in every other one that they have had. Together, always together.

Sehyoon is crying now. He sounds desperate and broken asking Byeongkwan to stay with him. The idea itself sounds ridiculous to Byeongkwan, after everything he has seen. Sehyoon shouldn’t ever have to ask. Byeongkwan would never leave him.

He wants to console him now, to cradle Sehyoon’s face in his hands, and wipe away his tears. He wants to tell him not to worry, not when their past is so intertwined that the rest of forever stretches out in front of them endlessly. Instead, he uses the last of his strength to murmur a promise that the current Sehyoon won’t understand but his soul will.

“I’ll find you,” he breathes, “and then we’ll be happy. I swear next time, we’ll be happy.”

Byeongkwan falls into the darkness willingly, confident in the fact that when he sees light once again, Sehyoon will be there as well.

_The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours –  
And the songs of every poet past and forever._

Byeongkwan jolts awake from another dream that felt much too real. He’s starting to wonder if they’re really just dreams after all. Even as this thought forms, the details of the dream start to fade from his memory. All he’s left with is a phantom ache in his chest. This, at least, Byeongkwan knows how to fix.

He pads over to Sehyoon’s room, opening the door quietly in case the older boy is still asleep. When Byeongkwan sits down on the mattress, there is shuffling from beneath the massive pile of sheets on the bed. Sehyoon pokes his head out and stares up at Byeongkwan blearily. He looks rumpled and sleep warm. Byeongkwan pokes him in the cheek.

“Let me in,” he says. 

There is no protest. Sehyoon lifts his arm and the blankets go with it, giving Byeongkwan enough space to wiggle in. He settles against Sehyoon’s chest and the latter wraps his arms around him.

“Dreams again?”

Byeongkwan nods. Sehyoon hums and plants a sympathetic kiss into his hair.

“How did you know?” 

“Youlsne me terdrm,” Sehyoon mumbles sleepily. Byeongkwan laughs. Sehyoon’s really not much of a morning person. “One more time, babe?”

“You always need me after those dreams,” Sehyoon repeats, clearer this time but still half muffled by the pillow. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes, Byeongkwan notes fondly. Maybe it’s that softness that compels him to say, “False. I always need you, period.”

He regrets it almost as soon as it leaves his mouth. He’s not sure why he said something so cheesy. That’s usually Sehyoon’s department, with his dad jokes and pick up lines. It makes Sehyoon pull back a bit to look at him, eyebrows slightly raised. Byeongkwan tries to hide his face as shame washes over him but the older boy doesn’t let him. He cups Byeongkwan’s face between his hands and gently forces him to make eye contact. Byeongkwan’s stomach flips at what he sees in Sehyoon’s gaze. It still amazes him, sometimes, how lucky he is to be on the receiving end of a love like this.

Then Sehyoon starts to laugh at him. Byeongkwan pouts and makes a fuss of getting up to leave but that only makes Sehyoon laugh harder. He wraps his arms around Byeongkwan, holding him still as he peppers his whole face with kisses. Escape at this point is futile. Byeongkwan manages to force him away but he gives up on trying to get out of bed. Sehyoon, still giggling, drops a final kiss to his lips before loosening his grip and tucking Byeongkwan back under his chin.

Byeongkwan huffs and buries his face into Sehyoon’s neck. He smells like sleep, and bodywash, and home. There’s no way in hell Byeongkwan is saying that one out loud. Instead, he tangles their legs together and lets himself drift off to sleep. The aching emptiness from earlier that morning fades away, soothed as Byeongkwan is enveloped by the inexplicable feeling that he is exactly where he is meant to be.

_In life after life, in age after age, forever._

**Author's Note:**

> First off, the quotes are Tagore but the title is Lang Leave. Forgive me father for i have sinned but Unending Love is not a title I could go with. 
> 
> Second, this took for-fucking-ever so if you finished it bless your heart. 
> 
> Some odds and ends:  
\- To clarify, no, their names aren’t the same in every version but byeongkwan sees flashes of memories as dreams so he experiences them as his current self with current sehyoon  
\- did i basically call sehni satan?? absolutely. perhaps the idea came to me after seeing this fancam https://twitter.com/i/status/1142875455407525888  
\- it wasn’t obvious but the last dream is WWII!verse. Sehyoon and Byeongkwan are spies for the allied forces. 
> 
> Please leave me a comment if you liked it! I need affirmation to function. If there’s any other verse you’d want to see, feel free to share as well!


End file.
